


Alone

by elenawrites



Category: All For the Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: M/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 14:12:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8105479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenawrites/pseuds/elenawrites
Summary: Jean goes out on his own.





	

**Author's Note:**

> my first actual piece of writing for tfc!! yay!

Jean Moreau is alone. 

Alone is forbidden. Alone is a hand yanking his hair hard and the word _please_ dying in his throat, because alone means he isn’t watching his partner’s back, alone means Riko will be angry.

 At the moment, Jean Moreau is alone in the frozen food aisle of the grocery store. at the moment, and _from now on,_ as Jean must remind himself, Riko is gone. Riko is going to stay gone. Jean fears the feelings of alone will stay as well. 

The handle on the refrigerator is cold when Jean reaches out, and he allows himself a second to _breathe, breathe, remember, nothing will happen anymore._

Nothing happens. Nothing will happen, and yet the fear has made a home in his body after all the years. A playful shove received too rough, a group of people dressed all in black, and Jean has to close his eyes and dig his scarred fingers into his thighs. 

Right now, alone is already threatening this reaction over him. His hand tightens around cold metal once more. 

And then the phone in his pocket buzzes. Jean pulls it out hesitantly, fingers numb as he unlocks it. 

Jeremy. 

_Laila wants peanut butter ice cream if they have it, Alvarez demands strawberry. I’ll eat whatever you pick, sunshine._

If it were anyone else, Jean would assume _sunshine_ is an ironic term, but not with Jeremy Knox. Jeremy Knox, possibly the only man that truly embodies sunshine, sees a light somewhere inside of Jean. 

_And I’m proud of you._

Oh. 

Jean can’t remember the last time he was proud of himself, let alone someone else was proud of him. He’s heard _fucking work harder, Moreau, better be perfect next time or you’ll regret it, you don’t deserve this court,_ but never _I’m proud of you._

It’s an odd feeling. 

His fingers tap out a response: _Got it. Almost done._

It needs more. 

_Thank you._

Jean hits send, slides his phone back into his pocket, and pulls three cartons of ice cream from the shelf. 

Instead of remembering the consequences of alone, Jean repeats the words _proud of you_ in his head until he’s back with the others. 

When he’s there, and Laila and Alvarez run to greet him, and Jeremy grins like he’s hung the moon, the phrase shifts in Jean’s head. _I am proud of my progress, I am proud of my efforts. I am proud of myself._

And it’s the truth.

 


End file.
